what's mine, is yours
by BSnows
Summary: Clexa one-shot being wifeys and doing stuff like Clarke helping Lexa rinse her war paint after a battle.


That spacious bedroom always feels cold and boring when Lexa isn't there. At this time of the night, they would probably be playing games or meditating together, cuddling, talking about the universe and the stars while holding hands in bed or Lexa would be teaching Clarke some Trigedasleng and Clarke, as always, would get pissed off because she can't pronounce certain words and Lexa would kiss her face because Lexa believes she can do it.

But Clarke gets even more pissed because she actually can't do it and Lexa ends with laughing a little bit.

Clarke looks around, trying to find something to distract her mind, but she fails on that. She looks down on the drawing on her lap. It's a drawing of Lexa sleeping. She traces the charcoal lines that forms her lips and smiles. Lexa is so cute, she pouts when she sleeps.

But her closed eyes in the picture triggers something in Clarke's brain.

And it doesn't feel good.

Lexa promised she'd be back as soon as she could when she said goodbye and kissed her forehead. She knows she shouldn't be this worried, it's Lexa after all. But there's always that tiny chance of someone hurting her wife when she's gone to fight a battle.

Before her heart begins beating faster with horrific pictures in her mind, she hears someone knocks on the door.

 _Oh, thank God._

Clarke breathes. She quickly gets up the chair and walks to the door to open it and the view of her girl standing there is beyond comforting. She has her war paint on her sweaty face and a scratch on her cheek, but, apparently, nothing more than that.

A feeling of pride spreads in Clarke's chest and she smiles. They were _hundreds_. And still, there she is, her girl perfectly intact.

"Hi," Lexa says after a shy smile curls her lips. Clarke immediately pulls her for a tight hug. "Your heart is beating fast, Clarke," Lexa gives a laugh. "I told you I would come home for you."

Clarke pulls away and looks at her.

"I know," Clarke nods. "But-"

Clarke opens her mouth, but no words are needed. Lexa notices it in her eyes.

"Shh. I will _always_ come back to you," she puts her hand on the back of Clarke's neck and tenderly presses their lips together. And it feels like she could fight a million battles if it all meant she could come back home to kiss Clarke.

Clarke puts her hand on Lexa's face to deepen the kiss, but Lexa pulls away at the exact moment her fingers touch her skin.

"Oh, _fuck_ , your scratch," she says. "I'm sorry."

Lexa smirks and raises an eyebrow to her.

She will never fully understand why sky people use the word "fuck" to everything.

"It's ok, it doesn't hurt that much."

"Oh, really?" Clarke rolls her eyes. "Let me touch it again then," she teases and Lexa's eyes widen at the same minute and she takes a step back. Clarke chuckles because Lexa is just too much of a dork. "Sit on the bed, let me clean that for you."

Lexa slightly blushes and obeys, she sits on the edge of their king size bed, the posture of her back perfectly upright. Clarke takes a bowl with water and a piece of cloth that was on top of the wooden nightstand. She soaks the cloth with water and hands the bowl to Lexa. Lexa takes it and opens her legs to Clarke stand between them.

"Head up, love." Lexa raises her head and closes her eyes, Clarke cradles her chin between her thumb and fingers. "We need to take off the war paint first."

Clarke squeezes out the cloth's excess of water on the bowl and carefully scrubs off the black paint.

And it doesn't rinse off much at first try. She puts a little bit more of strength in it.

And nothing.

 _For fucks sake._

"Lexa," Clarke sighs. "Did you use my waterproof eye liner?"

Lexa looks at her and sucks her lips into her mouth. Her eyes are big, she looks like a child that had just gotten caught.

"Maybe."

"Lexa!" '

"I'm sorry. That won't happen again it's just," she makes a pause. Clarke snorts and gets back trying to clean her face. "It's so much easier to apply."

"And it's like hell to rinse it off," Clarke mumbles.

Lexa closes her eyes again.

"Clarke, you vowed."

"What?"

"To treat your belongings as my own." Lexa has her eyes closed but she can feel that Clarke's doing that thing with her nose when she's pissed off. "And vice versa."

Clarke stops scrubbing Lexa's face. It's almost completly clean.

"That's the _third fucking time_ I ask you not to use _ou_ r eyeliner as war paint." Clarke says as she starts unbraiding Lexa's hair.

Lexa takes Clarke's hand from her hair and holds it.

"I'm sorry," she says and looks at her with puppy eyes. "I won't do that again, I promise."

Clarke looks at her. Honestly, how could she resist?

"Fine."

Lexa shyly smiles.

"Good," she says. She stands up and takes the red fabric out of her war clothing. Clarke observes her and raises an eyebrow. "Will you bath with me?"

Clarke smiles.

Lexa's thirst after war is all she needs to forget about every little thing.

And Lexa knows it.

 _Maybe_ Clarke won't mind if she tells her that she lost the eyeliner later.

* * *

 _ **HEY GUYS! This fic is part of a series at my Ao3 account. You can check it for more, or visit my tumblr (loupagneau), I often post my one-shots there! xx**_


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